


A good deal

by Plugs



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Brain surgery (off screen), M/M, Mind Control, Prowl and Jazz are queerplatonic/amica, Semi graphic violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:28:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 9,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24553135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plugs/pseuds/Plugs
Summary: “I cannot trust you to act in my best interests,” Prowl told him.“No,” Swindle agreed, “but you can trust me to act in mine.”
Relationships: Prowl/Swindle
Comments: 11
Kudos: 25





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is for my friend Swerve in return for some lovely art.
> 
> I had no idea I could write 9500 words and I’m pretty proud that I did. Hope folks enjoy!

Rain pattered outside of the abandoned human building. It had been the only shelter Prowl could find for him and the captured Decepticon. Rain wasn’t a danger to cybertronians, but Prowl preferred to wait for transport in the musty shack over getting soaked.

“The Autobot second in command himself coming after me?” Swindle grinned, “pretty flattering.”

Prowl looked into Swindle’s optics, “We believed you had a fusion bomb, and I was the only mech fast enough to catch up with you.”

“And you ‘bots fell for it.”

“There was a fifty five percent chance you had betrayed the Decepticons to sell a weapon of mass destruction to a human party. the humans can be trusted less than Megatron with such a weapon.”

“You got that right,” Swindle stretched and lay back. He managed to look relaxed despite being in stasis cuffs. “What does the second in command do when he’s not planning battles or capturing poor handsome ‘cons?”

Prowl groaned, “do not attempt to flirt with me.”

“I was just asking an innocent question and being honest,” Swindle smirked. His big purple optics gazed at Prowl, “we’re gonna be stuck here a while. why not have some fun?”

“Your attempt to escape by flirtation is embarrassing for both of us. stop.” Prowl replied.

“Oh trust me, I’m not trying to escape. I _want_ you to capture me”

“Why?”

“Because you got those calculations wrong you didn’t factor in one vital detail that’d have made that fifty five a zero”

“And what would that be?” Prowl said with a note of indignation.

Swindle twitched, “Something I need a little help with. then I’m gonna offer you the deal of a lifetime?”

“I am uninterested in any of your deals Swindle.”

“This ones a good one—there’s just something stuck in...my...head” Swindle‘s body shook in a spasm and his smile became a grimace, “you need to...get it out, and...I’ll end the war.”

Prowl knew the symptoms of a mech glitching, but this was something else. He moved to support Swindle, keeping the mechs helm cushioned with his servos.

“Prowl...frag,” Swindle twitched again, “capture me. take me...to your medic—if you want M..Megatron dead.” Swindle hissed and his helm sparked as he fell offline.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for some unwanted flirting. Swindle might be out of it but it’s still one sided right now.  
> There’s also off screen processor surgery and the aftermath of it.

“You said he appeared to be glitching?” Ratchet asked.

“Yes, although I saw no obvious cause,” Prowl replied, “It is not like my or Red Alert’s glitch.” Swindle had stayed offline the entire trip back to the Autobot base. Seeing once bright and expressive purple optics dark had been discomforting. Despite any uncouth behaviour.

“I’ll plug in and give him a scan—“ Ratchet frowned as his scan washed over Swindle. Then his expression turned grave. “First Aid, get the operating theatre ready. Swoop, comm Jazz and tell him he’s got a bomb to disarm and compliance coding to patch.”

Prowl flared his wings, “what?!”

“You heard me Prowl.”

* * *

Swindle’s helm was covered in weld marks and his optics were dull but awake. Prowl was deeply thankful for Jazz and Ratchet’s skill. No mech, regardless of faction, deserved to suffer under compliance coding. Or Primus forbid have a bomb surgically inserted into their helm.

Swindle smiled, but his face was strained with exhaustion, “My offer still stands Prowl. An end to the war.”

“I cannot trust you to act in my best interests,” Prowl said.

“No,” Swindle agreed, “but you can trust me to act in mine.”

“How would the war ending be in your interest?” Prowl sat beside Swindle’s berth. His wings tilted towards the mech.

Swindle smiled, “Directly it isn’t, but Megatron being...unavailable...for bomb placement is.” Swindle’s expression tensed but the expected pain didn’t come, so the mask of a smile fell, “I want Megatron cold and dead.”

Prowl nodded. The rage boiling in those purple optics was justified many times over.

“Bruticus is a great weapon sure. but having Ons and the others in my helm and risking my own spark if one of them deactivates? No thanks,” Swindle sneered in disgust.

“Both of those objectives would potentially end the war,” Prowl agreed. He calculated Megatron’s death would fracture the Decepticons into more easily defeated splinter groups. Even neutralising Bruticus alone would be a huge blow to the Decepticon army.

“Shall we shake on it?” Swindle smirked, “or perhaps seal it with a kiss?”

“I will not make a deal with you,” Prowl answered steadily.

Swindle’s smirk fell slightly. He swiftly attempted to masked it with a nonchalant expressionand a weak shrug.

“I will not make a deal yet. You are still recovering from major processor surgery.”

Swindle frowned, “You’re afraid of taking advantage of me? Me, Swindle, con mech extraordinaire?” He paused, “...is that kiss still on the table?”

Prowl rolled his optics, “Ratchet has asked me to medically uplink to assess your processor functionality. Not that I need it to recognise your processor to vocaliser filters are offline”

“So why isn’t the good doctor doing it?” Swindle lent forwards.

“Because he trusts me Swindle, like you _trust_ your _gestalt_ —do you trust _me_?” Prowl placed the emphasis carefully.

Swindle frowned, but then his eyes lit up with realisation,“Of course, trust is very important.”

Prowl plugged in.

Swindle kept his firewalls high around everything except what Prowl needed to access. He made sure to be gentle on recently scoured and patched coding. Keeping clinical in his analysis.

Prowl unplugged.

“I am impressed with your firewall coding skill.”

“Only way they can hear what I’m thinking through the bond is if they hack me.” Swindle grimaced, “Firewalls only delay Vortex. I got tired of being hacked. Thought some treason might do the trick.”

Prowl felt a shiver crawl down his wings. But he composed himself quickly, “I am not impressed with your refusal to accept I am uninterested in you.”

Swindle blinked tiredly, “uh, right, sure.”

Before Prowl could respond Swindle slipped into recharge.


	3. Chapter 3

“Swindle—“ Optimus Prime began.

“You’re taller than I thought,” Swindle remarked, “...My vocal filters are still glitching aren’t they?”

Optimus Prime cleared his throat, “Swindle I have come to offer you a choice. You may be held as a prisoner or you may opt to defect and be considered a neutral under our protection.”

“I’ll scrub the brand off myself,” Swindle said.

Optimus Prime blinked, “I glad you have certainty in your decision,” Prime said. “But you do not have to decide immediately, such a decision over a cause you have dedicated your life too, over comrades you have—“

“I didn’t join up. My comrades trip me over in the corridors and break my things ” Swindle said. He didn’t mention this was because he’d scammed them first.

Optimus Prime frowned, “Such bullying is wrong and the Autobots will not stand for such behaviour—if any issues occur please report it to Prowl or myself.”

“Really?” Swindle looked up with wide optics, “I’ve never had anyone look out for me before.”

Optimus put his servo on Swindle’s shoulder, “The Autobots protect all under our charge, you will be welcomed here.”

Swindle masked his cynical laughter with a fake sob. Suddenly two red and blue arms grabbed him in a crushing embrace.

“Gah!...uh thanks,” Swindle croaked.

“I promise you will be safe,” Prime’s deep voice boomed in Swindle’s audial.

Not safe from being crushed a Prime apparently, but it was worth it. Some mechs called him materialistic—Swindle called it self respect. Why have a cell and a bunk as a ‘con prisoner when he could have a berth and a room as a neutral?

* * *

Soon as Swindle been discharged from the medbay Jazz had told Swindle to come with him. Swindle had offered bribes in an increasingly panicked manner until they’d reached their destination.

“Can’t blame a mech for trying to preserve his functioning,” Swindle grinned nervously. “Now if you’d told me we were going to Prowl’s office...”

The door opened.

“Just get in there and don’t try to flirt again because he ain’t interested,” Jazz’s voice was laced with threat. He whispered into Swindle’s audial, “and don’t get smart about the mess.”

“Mess?” Swindle asked as Jazz pushed him though the door. He looked at the plies of datapads, empty cubes stacked on the desk and clutter filled shelves. “ _Primus_ ,” Swindle whispered.

Prowl, who was half buried by more clutter on his desk, looked up from his console.

“Uh—Primus! is that a genuine Praxian crystal burial urn?” Swindle said quickly.

“It contains ashes from the Praxian hotspot,” Prowl’s wings dipped low in grief.

Swindle winced internally. He couldn’t have put his foot in deeper in it without being a giant leg.

Jazz glared at Swindle as he walked past. He then sat on the corner of Prowl’s desk.“Okay Swindle, let’s hear it.”

This was going to be a tough sales pitch. “The other combaticons have that patch that negates their compliance coding—in return they take out Soundwave so an army doesn’t drop on anyone’s helms when they need to take out a certain warlord.”

Prowl’s wings lifted slightly, “Tactical analysis and further planing will also be needed—but I agree.”

Jazz spoke, “But even with Soundwave out of the picture so he’s not monitoring the Victory Megs has quick reflexes and thick armour—our assassin will need to get close.”

Prowl steepled his digits. “Megatron does not know Swindle’s coding has been patched or bomb removed—it stands to reason he would not suspect you to be capable of betrayal. If Jazz was brought to Megatron as a prisoner...”

“With Soundwave out of the way no one else has got the skills tell the cuffs are duds,” Jazz mused. “Megs does like getting in prisoners faces to gloat.”

Swindle grinned, “And once Megs is dead the war is over I get out of the gestalt. A nice shiny pardon—“

“—no fragging way you or the other Combaticons are going to waltz away from this,” Jazz interrupted.

“So you’re gonna put us in the box?” Darkness began to encroach on him. It gripped Swindle’s spark and squeezed. Swindle realised he’d stumbled backwards and hit the office wall. Prowl’s wings were angled towards him, but Jazz’s face was impassive.

“If it counts as torture assume we are not doing it,” Prowl said firmly.

“...Okay no box,” Swindle exvented and stepped away from the wall, “So we’re not gonna be wondering around free?”

“You will spent time in a reform system and be encouraged to reintegrate into a peaceful society,” Prowl told him. “Only your crimes pre war apply to your charges. not actions ordered by Megatron or coerced by Onslaught.”

“Which is fraud, more tax avoidance, dealing in contraband and loitering,” Jazz listed.

Swindle managed to keep the relief out of his expression.

“The other Combaticons will also be in the reform system once we are able to capture them. every mech deserves a chance,” Prowl’s wing spread wide and he smiled softly.

Swindle knew some cons might be able to play nice with the bots or settle down. Brawl might run a crystal shop, but one day he’d get into a fight. Vortex would be back to killing when they let him out. Onslaught would run whatever criminal underworld inevitably sprung up. Blastoff would stay with Ons.

The worst part was Prowl would feel he’d failed because some mechs could only be manipulated or threatened into different paths.

“Swindle?” Prowl’s wings tilted.

“It’s nothing.” Swindle brushed the concern away with a servo gesture. “just a little tired from all this planning. Probably the processor surgery.”

Jazz nodded. “Okay we can work on this tomorrow, but one final thing. This meeting is off the records. Prime does not know about this. Any mech outside of my ops team, Prowl and you do _not_ know about this.”

“Wait, you’re committing insubordination?” Swindle asked. A mech with less knowledge might have called it treason, but Swindle knew his military law.

“Optimus will not sanction us to deactivate Megatron by any means. He believes he can get though to him.” Prowl lowered his wings.

Swindle snorted, “—Seriously? He thinks Megatron is just gonna change his mind and call off the war—I knew he was noble to a fault, but I didn’t think he was stupid.”

Prowl’s wings shot up and flared. “Optimus is my Prime. he is my friend—this is a decision I must make so he does not have to.”

“Sorry, I ain’t used to the idea of leaders worthy of respect—or friendship.” Swindle lifted his servos. “You know Prime far better than me. I shouldn’t have tried to judge.” Even if Swindle knew Prime was a coward who’s ‘morals’ mean more than his own men.

But then the tiredness that had been creeping up on Swindle crashed into him like a wall. It felt like he’d spent all day towing Brawl around.

Jazz tilted his help. “Prowl, if someone doesn’t take Swindle back to his room he’s going to nap in your office.”

“Then I will escort him,” Prowl said.

Swindle nearly cracked a joke about an enforcer escort, but he found himself slipping to the floor. He was vaguely aware of being picked up. Swindle tried to wriggle free. Being picked up when you were too weak to fight back was bad. 

“Swindle you are safe.”

Swindle trusted the voice enough to stop trying to escape. He found himself lying in a berth. Before Swindle slipped into recharge he saw Prowl leaving the room with a small smile on his face.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for bad flirting and horrible puns later in the chapter.

A day later Swindle went to the med bay for his check up. The cantankerous medic, Ratchet, seemed happy with his progress. But he wasn’t too happy about Swindle’s request.

Ratchet put his servos on his hips. “I can’t do it.”

“Come on doc. you’ll get Bruticus out of the way,” Swindle pleaded.

“I didn’t say I won’t do it Swindle, but that I _can’t_ do it,” Ratchet grumbled and subspaced his scanner. “I need the other combaticons here so I can interrupt the bond with the right frequencies, and if you haven’t noticed you had major surgery recently.”

Swindle shrugged. “Well it was worth a try—thanks for the checkup doc.”

“Sure. Whatever. Don’t ask the other medics if they’ll operate, and don’t try to bribe them.”

“You technically took my bribe.” Swindle pointed out.

“No, a patent gave me high grade and I confiscated it,” Ratchet’s optics narrowed, “Try that with Aid and you'll be sorry.”

Swindle smirked, “The high-grade or the bribe?”

“Swindle, get the frag out of my medbay.”

* * *

When Swindle entered the Autobot rec room for the first time it felt familiar. There were less threats and no one tripped him up. Yet there was the same homely air of hostility and distrust.

It was clear from the glares and silence he wasn’t welcome at any table, so Swindle got his cube and left. He sat in his room to drink it. The room was both warm and dry. Two things the nemesis had lacked.

The next day he got his cube and went to his room. Room was still warm and dry.

This continued. He went to medical check ups. Prowl’s office. Then his room.

Every fragging day.

Then one day Swindle saw a mech sat in the corner of the rec room by himself. He got his cube and walked over.

“Don’t suppose there’s room for one more?”

Prowl looked up from his datapad.

“Despite staying in my room for weeks I ain’t an introvert—I started talking to my berth lamp yesterday—Optimus said autobots were welcoming,” Swindle babbled.

He was laying it on thick for the rec room audience by forcing his optics to water. However the part about cracking wasn’t a joke—Swindle was not designed for isolation.

Prowl nodded. “Of course.” his voice rose, “As Autobots we should be welcoming to mechs who have escaped from the tyranny of the Decepticon ranks.”

There were some rolled optics in the room. This was clearly officer trying to follow in Prime’s footsteps and guilted by big purple optics. Not an officer collaborating with an ex ‘con in his spare time.

Swindle sat down and decided to kick off the much needed conversation. “What’s your favourite song?”

Prowl blushed slightly but spoke without hesitation, “Windspears ‘break my spark’—I know some mechs consider the cybeat genre vapid, but I find it enjoyable.”

“A song about missing a conjunx who was toxic but everyone else loved? that’s what mechs call vapid these days?” Swindle’s outrage was only half feigned.

This started a long conversation on music and mechs with bad opinions about said music. Eventually Prowl had to leave to work. Then they met the next day to talk and the next. It was a good distraction from the impending mission.

Swindle knew Prowl was easy on the optics and sharp as a vibroblade. Any mech could see that. But unless a mech got to really talk to Prowl they missed his dry humor. They missed how the ‘drone’ was just as emotional as them. And they’d never know that the ‘hard aft’ was saving all their afts from an endless war.

* * *

  
One evening Wheeljack flooded the rec room with jelly. Apparently this was the sort of bizarreness mechs on the Arc put up with regularly—if this had happened on the Victory it would have involved explosives, missing limbs and the brig.

But they weren’t on the Victory. So Swindle and Prowl ended up sitting on the Arc’s hull. They were thankfully only slightly sticky and fruit scented.

They watched the sunset over the peaceful organic landscape in silence. It felt like an old romance holoflim.

Prowl broke the silence, “Why did you flirt with me?” 

Swindle smiled nervously. “I was hoping you’d be interested back, but since you clearly weren’t I backed off—I ain’t that kinda slimy.”

“Explain again, and don’t lie—“

“—I wasn’t lying Prowl.” Swindle sighed and his expression turned solemn. “Some mechs think they’re good, but they just like the idea of being good. They ain’t willing to act like a good mech. You’re ready to save lives, not just proclaim how noble and pure you are.”

Swindle looked into Prowl’s optics. “I know I’m not a good mech, but I’m trying—you could have just left me to glitch.”

“I do not owe you a romantic relationship.” Prowl hitched his wings.

“I know and I’m okay with that. You wanna go off into the sunset with Jazz and I’m happy for you.”

“What I and Jazz have is deeper than a friendship but not romantic.”

“Fair enough mech I—“ Swindle realised his hand was now covered by Prowl’s.

“Despite my protesting common sense.” Prowl’s wings tilted. “I...may be interested.”

Swindle blinked. “I didn’t expect that.”

“Would you expect a kiss?”

“Uh, yes. No. Do you think I’ll taste like organic fruit or not?”

Prowl laughed, “we could find out—but...” Prowl cleared his vocaliser.

“Chaste kissing for now?” Swindle guessed.

“Yes,” Prowl agreed.

That was the only warning he gave before pecking Swindle on the cheek. It was certainly chaste but somehow it made Swindle’s fans start to flutter.

Prowl‘s wings fluttered rapidly.

“Everything okay?” Swindle asked tentatively.

“...it seems fruit flavour cheeks are quite delicious,” Prowl’s faceplates flushed.

“you could sample my wares some more,” Swindle suggested.

“I did inform you I wanted use to avoid getting too fruity,” Prowl chastised, but he snorted at his own joke. “But perhaps I will take more free samples...”

“free?” Swindle gasped in mock horror and lifted his servos to ‘protect’ his face, “lips off the merchandise!”

Prowl groaned and laughed at the same time. But Swindle was soon swayed to share his merchandise again...


	5. Chapter 5

Swindle had given Prowl Onslaught’s comm. After an agonisingly long week Onslaught had replied. They’d negotiated for hours about location and time. Prowl swore the mech was intentionally trying to frustrate him into a tactical mistake.

[Fine. Those coordinates at the organic forrest two clicks from the Autobot base. two orns from now at 19:00 hours. Blastoff will be in orbit. if this is a trick prepare for the well,] Onslaught closed the commline.

This happened to coincide with Prowl’s recharge break. Prowl was now coordinating the operation from his berth. Ratchet would be furious if he’d known. Prowl had a brief mental image of Ratchet’s fury descending on the Combaticons and forcing them into surrender. If only things were that easy.

The location was useful as Jazz could not easily explain to the other officers taking Swindle, a neutral, from the Ark for an extended period of time. Taking Swindle for a short supervised evening walk in the local forrest was far less suspicious. 

“Nervous?” Jazz said. It was the first time Prowl had head him talk to Swindle in weeks. 

“I’m telling mechs who hate me to part in a scheme with the Autobots to kill Megatron. In return for them trusting the Autobots to break their compliance coding.” Swindle grinned, “I’m fragging terrified.”

[You’ve successful pulled off many schemes and sales despite being called ‘swindle’. If you cannot sweet talk them then I believe no one can,] Prowl said.

“Now I’m terrified and flattered,” Swindle replied.

There was a loud crash in the distance. Birds screeched in panic and exploded into the sky.

Jazz snorted, “...Think our guests are approaching”.

“Yeah, that’s Brawl. Him and Tex are gonna be with Ons, Blastoff is somewhere cloaked nearby—he’ll be in shuttle mode for a quick retreat—or to bombard us.”

“That’s what ya said in the meeting mech,” Jazz replied.

“I know. Talking helps me think about not being beaten into scrap,” Swindle grimaced.

[I understand your apprehension Swindle, but you need to focus. Jazz—]

“My visor is your optics. My sensory horns are your audials. I gotta keep that in mind so you get all the data you need.”

“Wait. What?” Swindle exclaimed.

[Focus!] Prowl hissed.

There were several loud cracks of snapping tree trunks and branches cradling to the ground. This was followed by loud stomping footsteps. The trees parted in a shower of leaves and wood splinters.

“Fragging organics!” Brawl stumbled into the clearing and tugged on a pine branch stuck in his chest kibble. He was followed by Vortex and Onslaught.

“So Ons,” Swindle stepped forwards, “How would you like Megatron dead?“

Onslaught looked into Jazz’s visor,“Do you normally get con mechs to talk for you Autobot? or is this reflective of your normal practices?”

Jazz shrugged, “I could ask if crashing though trees an’ drawing enough attention to wake the deactivated is yours, but I’m not gonna judge the rest of you by Brawl.”

“Hey!” Brawl growled, “you try to get between those things when you’re not a pint sized shiny autoaft!”

“He has a point Brawly,” Vortex snickered.

Onslaught rubbed a servo on his faceplate as if trying to abet a helm ache, “Get on with this Autobot.”

“Here’s what we’re offering. Jazz here has data stick containing a program that’ll disabled the compliance coding,” Swindle said.

Jazz pulled a data stick out of subspace and twirled it in his servo.

“In return, you get Soundwave out of the way so he can kill Megs,” Swindle finished.

“How do you propose to get an Autobot assassin inside the Victory without suspicion?” Onslaught crossed his arms.

Swindle grinned, “We ‘capture’ Jazz and bring him stasis cuffed to Megatron as a gift to get us back in his good books—then those stasis cuffs ‘malfunction’ and with no Soundwave to alert any help...”

“I can slit his lines an’ we can get out before the rest of the con army falls on our helms,” Jazz finished.

“As a bonus, Ratchet, the Autobot’s skilled medic can break the gestalt bond!” Swindle exclaimed.

[Swindle,] Prowl sat up in his berth. [We did not discuss breaking the bond as part of this deal.]

Vortex tilted his helm,“Swin isn’t lying...I’d finally be free again.”

“Yeah an’ I’d not have to have you slag speaking me in my own helm,” Brawl growled at Vortex.

“Bruticus is too useful an asset to throw away,” Onslaught said firmly.

“Ons,” Vortex’s voice trembled, “You told me you’d find us an out—being stuck with your sparks and feelings—it’s a another fragging box for me!”

“The plan has changed. We need Bruticus and I need an optic on Swindle.”

“No—“

“I am your commander Vortex. You obey me not your own wants,”

Vortex’s blades rattled aggressively then settled, “fine,” he snarled, “let me guess we’re throwing away getting free of the compliance coding too?”

“If this isn’t a trick we are not,” Onslaught glared at Swindle, “Prove this isn’t another game or betrayal.”

“Okay Gentlemechs, here is my evidence,” Swindle cleared his vocaliser, “Megatron is a piece of slag. I’d love to shove his fusion cannon up his aft then fire it.”

“Swin isn’t failing that,” Vortex muttered, “Can’t read the polyhexian...never not been able to read someone...”

“Could have been hacked or turned into a drone,” Brawl crossed his arms. “He’s covered in loads of helm scars—what if there ain’t even a processor in there.”

“Sorry that I have scarring after having a bomb cut out of my processor,” Swindle said tartly, “and don’t mistake me for you Brawl.”

“It’s Swindle,” Vortex snickered, “Drone couldn't imitate his speech patterns or body language like that—get under Swin’s plating and he can’t help snipping back.”

“I trust your judgement Vortex. Brawl?” Onslaught looked at the tank.

“Oh, great so I gotta test the autobot patch. Thanks,” Brawl grumbled.

“Brawl that was an—“

“An order. I know,” Prowl watched though Jazz’s visor as Brawl stomp towards him. “Give it here bot.”

“You can scan it before you download it.” Jazz said and handed the drive over

“Sure whatever,” Brawl snatched it and walked back to the Combaticons. “If this kills me I’ll be waiting for you in the pit.”

Brawl plugged in the device. His visor flickered offline and his limbs locked up.

“Swindle!” Onslaught roared.

[Get ready to evacuate,] Prowl warned.

“You’ve gotta give it time to work mech!” Jazz yelled. It wasn’t clear if he was directing that at Prowl or Onslaught.

“Wait Ons he’s waking up. Look—.”

Brawl’s visor flickered back online. He shook his helm as if shaking off debris. “Uh...Megatron is...Megatron can go eat a slag coated grenade!”

“It worked—didn’t improve Brawl’s verbosity though,” Vortex sighed.

“Can everyone stop fragging insulting me. I’m smarter than you all think,” Brawl’s engine growled.

“Brawl, Vortex, enough,” Onslaught said sharply, “Vortex subspace the datastick—run coding tests on Brawl once we return to base.”

“Seriously, you still don’t trust us Ons?” Swindle exasperated.

“I believe you—but I am not a fool. If this coding patch works I find the terms of this deal acceptable,”Onslaught glared at Jazz, “If not I shall inform your Prime of this clearly unsanctioned meeting.”

The Combaticons left. Brawl’s grumbles about trees faded into the distance.

“That went well didn’t it?” Swindle grinned, “and no one got scrapped.”

[Swindle,] Prowl’s wings flicked with anger, [we need to talk.]

“Might wanna rethink that assessment mech,” Jazz said.   
  


* * *

  
[Prowl, your word was true and the coding patches worked. Your offer is intriguing but lacks incentive. I will aid the mission, but I must have one small concession from you...]


	6. Chapter 6

“Swindle you went off mission,” Prowl held his wings tense. “This is not a freelance deal, you are working with us. Specifically under my command—at no point did we agree to offer the gestalt bond being broken.”

Jazz was silent.

Swindle lay back in his chair and shrugged, “Sewing a little bit of distrust amongst the team is gonna make it easier to capture them in the long run. Tex is gonna get more frustrated as Ons’s broken promise and—“

“Your actions do not aid our current mission. long term goals can be explored when Megatron is dead, and again, my orders are not negotiable,” Prowl said icily.

“I had to offer Onslaught immunity from crimes the Combaticons committed on Cybertron to gain their allegiance—I do not need unknown factors complicating my plans.”

Swindle’s eyes went wide, “— You’re gonna actually go though with that? You’re not going to lie then charge them anyway? Seriously!? I get you’re Autobot's and you've gotta stand for your principles, but this is a load of slag.”

“If we wish to reform them, we must not betray their trust—“

Swindle sighed, “Give Brawl anger management maybe. But Tex and Ons will never fit into your peace time vision and Blastoff will follow Ons. You’re a good mech Prowl and see the good in other mechs, but you’re not dealing with good mechs.”

Prowl’s wings stayed still and impassive. As did his face.

Jazz’s helm was tilted and his visor piercing in its intensity. As unreadable as Vortex said he was.

“I ain’t a good mech so I know how to deal with them,” Swindle told Prowl, “they won’t play by the rules and you can’t win their trust—Ons is as slippery as me but with your tactical skills—he’s gonna put a knife in our backs sooner or later.”

“I have been dealing with Onslaught like an Autobot. that critique I will accept,” Prowl’s optics turned hard, “However, Swindle, you did not communicate your plan, and when I am disciplining you is not the time to bring this up.”

Swindle huffed and looked away, “fine. I won’t disobey orders or bring in any factors

without telling you.”

Jazz cleared his vocaliser, “How about we take a break?”

“That would be good,” Prowl flicked a wing.

* * *

Being a neutral didn’t mean Swindle could lark about aimlessly all orn. He’d recovered enough from processor surgery to do light duty. He welcomed having something to do that was less stressful than tense planning sessions with an icy Prowl.

The ‘bots had him assigned to storage organisation after he’d told them he had inventory skills. Swindle was keeping true to what he’d told Prowl about changing his ways and wasn’t skimming off the supplies either. It also helped him forget that the mission to deactivate Megatron was fast approaching.

Just as he’d nearly finished up he heard the door open. The camera winked offline.

“I’d been telling Prowler all this time we can’t beat ‘cons thinking like ‘bots,” Jazz told Swindle. “Each time I kept trying to spare his feelings. Then you tell Prowl he’s speaking slag to his face an’ he gets it.”

Swindle put his work datapad in subspace, “Yeah but I pissed him off so much he doesn’t talk to me outside of briefings.” Swindle sat down on a storage box and patted the one next to him.

Jazz sat down on the box cross legged. “Y’know despite how slagged off he is, Prowl still likes you.”

“...So is this the part when you threaten to kill me if I break his spark?” Swindle asked. 

“Nope,” Jazz replied. “It’s the part when I make it clear where you’re fragging up with my amica.”

Swindle grinned awkwardly, “So, uh, advise away my good mech!”

“Firstly, the whole ‘I’m a bad mech’ thing from that meeting. Heard ‘I’m a horrible person please fix me with your love’ enough times mech.”

Swindle was silent for a while, “I’m gonna fix my own slag. Prowl’s got enough on his shoulders.”

“Right,” Jazz crossed his servos, “Next, relationships can’t be built on lies. I know you were doing more than fraud and selling rare crystals illegally.” Jazz looked into Swindle’s optics, “I don’t know what you did, but either you tell Prowl the truth or I dig an’ tell him myself.”

Swindle cleared his vocaliser. “right,” he said tightly.

“I can tell you’re burning to ask questions mech.”

“Is the fact I’m an ex-‘con—“

“No. Plenty of Autobot’s here are ex-something,” Jazz explained, “Prowl can make his own choices, but If were gonna be working together on a mission I can’t have it in the back of my helm that you’re messing my amica around.”

“Hope I straightened everything out,” Swindle smiled.

“Actions speak louder than words, but I’m gonna give you the benefit of the doubt.”

They sat in silence for a while.

“ so that visor thing with Prowl...”

“It’s classified and for official use only.”

Swindle tilted his helm and smiled in mock innocence, “I’m sure you’d never use it for anything other than official serious business.”

“I used it to cheat at cards _once_ , but it was important to the mission,” Jazz replied.

Swindle smirked, “Sure it was.”


	7. Chapter 7

That evening on top of the Ark had been wonderful. Until Prowl got away from the sweet scented rosey evening light and lay in his empty room. As Prowl had tried to recharge his emotions and thoughts tangled like a web. His processor ran the same code lines and simulations over and over.

Currently Prowl sat in his office with his processor spinning in the same circles.

He was an Autobot. Swindle was an ex Decepticon. Prowl was second in command and could not afford personal bias towards soldiers under his command. Yet Swindle was a neutral not a soldier.

Prowl was still frustrated at the mech, and yet—

—a knock on the door.

“Enter,” Prowl called.

Swindle came shuffling in holding a tray, “I wanna to apologise for not communicating or following your plan—you’re trying to end a war—that can’t be easy to plan. I shouldn’t have potentially screwed things up because I got smart.”

Prowl nodded, “I recognise your apology.”

“I brought some copper infused energon with mercury truffles” Swindle lifted the tray, “You don’t have to accept them. Or you can accept them and not the apology. You don’t have to accept anything. I mean. anything you don’t want too,” Swindle said falteringly.

Prowl got the distinct feeling Swindle was not used to apologising. “...I will accept the gifts but I need to know something—how you got hold of them?”

Swindle opened his mouth then closed it. He then tentatively walked up to Prowl’s desk and looked awkwardly at the stacked empty cubes and papers. Then at his tray. Then at the cubes.

Prowl swept the mess on his desk aside with his arm into an overflowing bin.

“...thanks.” Swindle placed his tray on Prowl’s desk. “I did a deal with Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. in return for helping them with cleaning I got some of Sideswipe’s latest batch.”

“You cleaned the plumbing sludge?” Prowl flicked his wings up. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker had been assigned that task on the weekly rotor—it was one of the dirtiest and most disgusting jobs mechs on the Arc had to do.

“Wasn’t pleasant but I’m used to messes—because of Brawl. He was really messy,” Swindle added quickly.

Prowl laughed at Swindle’s clumsy evasion, “Swindle, I have noticed my own office is messy. I am often so focused on work the clutter starts to blend into the background.”

“Huh, Jazz seemed to think you’d blow a gasket about that.”

“I would prefer mechs didn’t say things such as ‘your office is disgusting’ when they first meet me.” Prowl smiled, “Friends can get away acknowledging the mess exists.”

“Yeah. friends,” Swindle repeated, “So...are you gonna try the treats?”

“Of course,” Prowl smiled and picked up a treat. It melted in his mouth with a sharp note of copper. He closed his optics and hummed in pleasure at the taste. When Prowl opened them he noticed Swindle’s large eyes looking at the treats longingly.

Swindle grinned, “Sorry, haven’t had a treat for vorns, but these are for you and...”

Prowl held a treat in his digits, “Perhaps you should try one then?” Prowl immediately realised how this gesture could be taken in many ways. Including a rather racy one. Prowl was now thinking very intently about the racy one.

Swindle’s faceplate flushed blue, “—try one? I mean I couldn’t. Well if you want me too. Try one that is.”

“Yes I do. If you want to.”

They were both silent for a moment.

“Frag it,” Swindle delicately picked the treat from Prowl’s digits with his mouth. Prowl flushed as he felt the soft and brief touch of the mechs lips.

Swindle made happy, adorable noises of pleasure, “Primus that’s good!”

“Yes, it is,” Prowl agreed.

* * *

Swindle let out a vent as the final debrief meeting ended. He’d not been surprised to see Autobot special ops there. Mirage and Bumblebee being more loyal to their commander then their Prime felt reasonable.

Skyfire had been a surprise however. It made sense the bots needed a transport out of the Victory, but last Swindle had heard the mech was a loyal Autobot. Loyalty to a badge didn’t mean loyalty to a mech though.

“Nervous?” Jazz asked him. Swindle realised he’d been sitting looking blankly in the now almost empty room where Prowl had been laying out the mission. “Very nervous,” Swindle admitted.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get us both back safely—then you can moon over Prowl some more.”

“I wasn’t mooning!—I was taking in the mission brief—you get ‘kidnapped’ by the Combaticons, Soundwave is taken down, Megs is dead and we get out,” Swindle listed.

Jazz held up his servos in a placating manner, “Okay, okay, you were playing attention.”

“Prowl does interesting mission briefings,” Swindle crossed his arms. But he failed to hide the flush in his faceplates.

Jazz giggled, “slag you’re both adorable.”

* * *

A few hours later Jazz felt nowhere near as jovial. “Okay so top marks for making this kidnapping look realistic, but you didn’t need to try actually beat me up,” Jazz grumbled.

Brawl snorted, “Not my fault that visor breaks easy. An’ most of that blood is still fake stuff you put on.”

“Yeah, Most” Jazz replied. He looked over briefly to the empty space where Mirage hid. Because Jazz wasn’t going into Meg’s throne room without a backup plan, or about to trust the Combaticons.

Bumblebee sat opposite on Jazz’s other side. His crossed arms betrayed his discomfort at being surrounded by ‘cons. “sir, are you sure you’re okay for the mission, I could—“

“It’s me Megs will want Bee, no offence,” Jazz told him, “I gotta be the one dragged though the Victory.”

“I’ll do some actual dragging—we’reselling to Meg’s and the other ‘cons that you’re too injured to be a threat,” Swindle grinned, “I’ll add in some creative insults for realism.”

“Great,” Jazz replied flatly. Then his audial horns pricked up at the sound of footsteps.

“—Ons is in a terrible mood. Especially if you play with his new port,” Vortex huffed, “He pushed me away instead of twisting my rotors.” the copter flopped onto a seat, “he never plays with me anymore.”

“...I don’t think I wanna know,” Jazz said.

Bumblebee grimaced. Jazz could only imagine Mirage shared the sentiment regardless of his necessary silence.

“Sorry to hear that Tex...dunno what’s gotten into Ons since I’ve been gone,” Swindle shook his helm slowly.

“At least when you were gone this time you didn’t betray us. At least you’re selfish as fuck unapologetically rather than—” Vortex raised his voice and turned towards Blastoff’s cockpit, “—pretending you care about me!”

“Ouch,” Swindle muttered, but a smirk played on his face like something was falling into motion.


	8. Chapter 8

Swindle shoved Jazz into the throne room. [Sorry mech,] Swindle commed, [its—]

[For realism,] Jazz loaded irritation into his glyphs, [like the ‘cons spitting on me. I know.]

“So this is what the Combaticons have been up too.” Megatron sat lazily at his throne.

It was at the opposite end of the room and set a few steps up. Thundercracker and Skywarp flanked Megatron as guards. Knowing Mirage had his back and a full clip of ammunition gave Jazz some comfort.

“Yes Lord Megatron, the Combaticons have been working to bring you a gift!” Swindle exclaimed.

“A very dangerous gift...” Megatron trailed off, “This is far more than I believed you capable of.”

“We only wish to please you Lord Megatron,” Swindle smiled and bowed stiffly.

“ _Creep_ ,” Skywarp muttered.

Megatron narrowed his optics,“They say your shouldn’t look gift equinoid in the mouth, but I would like to check this not a knock off.”

“Of course Lord Megatron,” Swindle bowed again.

Megatron got up from his throne and walked towards Swindle and Jazz. Skywarp attempted to follow but was waved back with a servo. 

The warlord knelt down and grabbed Jazz’s faceplate, “For once Swindle you team has impressed me.”

Jazz spat static as if his vocaliser was broken.

“What was that Autobot?” Megatron leaned in closer, “Did you say the Decepticons are superior?”

Jazz had the perfect opportunity to get at Megatron’s throat. But without Soundwave and his surveillance down it’d be death by whatever Megatron loyalists got here first.

“What would you look like with the Decepticon brand?” Megatron smirked, “The compliance coding is unbreakable. you wouldn’t want to kill your Autobot friends but you couldn’t disobey me...”

Jazz hid his pride at breaking the compliance coding, but let his fear at having the warlord right in his face show. Megatron loved fear in his enemies and it’d keep him gloating. this would only stall the warlord for a short time. Where the frag was Bee?

“Inform Onslaught I am impressed with his work,” Megatron told Swindle, “Perhaps you can get Prime’s other commander next time—they would make a beautiful pair.”

[We’ve got Soundwave restrained and unconscious—they wanted to kill him but I talked them down,] Bumblebee commed. His message had a clear note of frustration. Jazz didn’t envy him having to work with the Combaticons.

[Good job Bee.]

[Thanks Jazz, You’re good to—,] Bee’s com cut off in a crackle of static.

[Bumblebee!?] Jazz pinged Bumblebee to no avail. Something was deeply wrong.

“—Well I like to _surprise_ mechs sometimes,” Swindle was radiating stress and it had made him give up on subtly. Jazz couldn’t blame him given the circumstances. 

Jazz swore internally, [Raj, Bee’s comm cut off an’ I smell betrayal—go find him.]

[Sir, not to doubt your combat ability’s but Megatron and two seeker guard's?] Mirage asked. Jazz could imagine Mirages incredulous look without being able to see him.

[Megs won’t be a problem—get moving solider.] Jazz spat more static at Megatron.

“Poor little Autobot, you still have nothing to say—perhaps a few nights in the brig with no fuel will loosen your tongue—”

Jazz smiled. He slipped free of the cuffs and whipped his vibroknife out of subspace in one smooth arc. Megatron choked as energon gushed from his throat. He crumpled to the floor

Because it didn’t matter if you were the destroyer of worlds or some lowly foot solider—a knife to the throat killed all the same.

“Primus!” Swindle exclaimed.

Skywarp was still for a moment. Then he roared in anguish and charged at Jazz and Swindle.

Swindle got his gun and cannon out of subspace. Jazz adjusted his grip on his knife—a gun would have been detected by Soundwave easily. A knife made of antimatter was invisible until it struck.

Skywarp curled his fist and blinked out of existence only to re appear and try smash his servo into Jazz’s chassis. Jazz managed to roll into the punch but it still winded him. Skywarp was about to attack again but a pained screech echoed in the throne room.

Thundercracker staggered to one knee as his melted wing sizzled. His optics burned feverishly in pain.

“That’s for calling me short!” Swindle yelled and pointed his cannon at Thundercracker again, “and this is for—“

Swindle was cut off as Skywarp teleported and pinned him to the ground. The seeker flicked out his claws and brought them to Swindle’s throat.

Jazz dashed towards Skywarp and jumped on his back. Skywarp thrashed around trying to dislodge him. Jazz pinched a wire in Skywarp’s neck causing the seeker to drop to the floor unconscious.

[Sir I have found Bumblebee, but he is seriously injured. I can stabilise him but he needs Ratchet soon. I have erased the relevant video files and destroyed the console—it should appear to be the work of a stay shot,] Mirage’s comm was grave in tone as his news.

[Frag. Raj, get him the sea tower and get it up for Skyfire. I’ll cut it fine but make it to the take off,] Jazz replied.

[Try not to cut it too fine sir. Also, Soundwave has been deactivated.]

[Can’t say I’m shedding any tears, but killing Sounders wasn’t necessary,] Jazz replied. “You okay Swindle?”

“—bit squished but I’ll live,” Swindle wheezed. He wriggled from under the unconscious Skywarp, “I think that went well.”

“No problem mech. the good news is we’ve completed our objective. But first I’ve got some hacking to do.”

Swindle tensed, “Hacking? Didn’t think that was something Autobots did.”

Jazz manually opened and plugged into Skywarp’s wrist port, “It ain’t something we do and it ain’t something I wanna do. but it means we don’t risk two little birdies telling Prime who killed Megs.”

Swindle frowned, “Okay...I’ll look away.”

Jazz finished wiping Skywarp’s recent memory files and walked over to Thundercracker. Swindle clearly had some history with hacking. Hacking either mech wasn’t hard work when you knew coding and how to get around firewalls—Jazz almost wished it was.

Jazz took a vent, “Okay, the bad news is we’ve gotta hurry if we wanna get out of here.”

“Reliable transport huh,” Swindle muttered.

[I’ve hacked the sea tower to rise shortly and have Bumblebee—please hurry it up sir. Skyfire is inbound in five minutes.]

[I get the message Raj,] Jazz replied fondly, “Okay, lets get moving and hightail up to the sea tower!”

“No, you will not.” Onslaught stepped though the throne room doors followed by the other Combaticons. “Megatron’s death will cause the Decepticons to fracture—we will be easy pickings for Autobots looking to seal away their enemies.”

Jazz eyed up the guns pointing at him, “let me guess—unless you take over the Decepticons?”

Swindle sighed, “Ons, no offence but the ‘cons hate you. They won’t follow you.”

“They can hate me Swindle,” Onslaught walked up to Megatron’s corpse. He kicked the dead leader hard in the helm for good measure and removed his fusion cannon. “rule by fear is leading all the same.” Onslaught attached the canon to that newly built port in his arm.

“Now me an’ Swin have got a ride to catch. I don’t really care what you’re doing with Meg’s cannon, so point those guns elsewhere. After what you did to my mech I ain’t in the mood for this slag,” Jazz growled.

Onslaught looked at his new cannon then at Jazz. “Or I could out the Autobot third while I have the chance and the firepower?”

“...Sir,” Blastoff said quietly, “I do not think drawing the ire of commander Prowl is wise.”

It wasn’t. Jazz knew Prowl would hunt the Combaticons to the end of the earth and beyond if they deactivated Jazz. Prowl’s love for those he cared about had won out over Autobot rules once, and it’d do that again.

“Then commander Prowl can be next,” Onslaught began charging the cannon.

[Sir, Skyfire is under fire, we have to leave now. If you are not around the corner--] 

[Raj, looks like you’re the new ops head—tell Prowl I’m sorry I couldn’t get me and Swindle out of this mess,] Jazz said. There was a single ping of acknowledgement from Mirage.

“I have had enough of being controlled by Decepticons and spoke down to by Autobots!” Onslaught roared and fired the cannon. The light filled Jazz’s optics.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for serious injury that isn’t described too graphically.

Swindle leapt. For a few seconds everything went white. Then black. The pain felt like Swindle been submerged in plasma. The black and white slowly separated out into Jazz’s static peppered faceplate.

“You just saved my life,” Jazz’s fuzzy faceplate wasn’t quite readable.

Swindle gave Jazz a shaky thumbs up. He could feel Jazz’s servos dancing over his mangled melted chest and trying to stench the bleeding.

“He knows we risk deactivation if he dies—Swindle is manipulating us. Blastoff takes him to the Autobot’s medic and they capture us.” Swindle could hear Onslaught pacing around the throne room as he spoke.

“If we don’t get him to that medic we might die—an’ dying cuz one of us saved a bot is a fragging embarrassing way to go,” Vortex said.

Onslaught growled at Vortex, “If we take him to that medic we will all go to the box. We will all be in that void forever.”

“No we won’t,” Brawl interrupted.

Onslaught turned to Brawl, “I would love to hear your intellectual reasoning.”

Brawl missed Onslaught’s jibe,“Swindle wouldn’t make a deal if he though the bots would put anyone in the box. Cuz that’d mean they could put him in it. He ain’t gonna put his own aft in the smelter like that.”

“We will still be imprisoned,” Onslaught snapped back.

“I’d rather be in a cell than dead,” the light in Brawl’s visor narrowed “An’ maybe some of us would rather be in a cell than following you.”

Vortex flicked his rotors, “I didn’t sign up to be your servant or your weapon.”

“Blastoff?” Onslaught turned to the shuttle.

Blastoff was silent.

“...fine. Do not mistake this for surrender Autobot.” Onslaught glared at the other Combaticons, “At least from me”.

Swindle’s vision was filled with red warning messages and static. But he smiled though the pain. He’d destroyed the war machine Bruticus by stabbing a few words into some of his components weak spots.

And he had been the gestalts biggest weak spot. Both his intent and currently bleeding out body. Would Prowl morn if he died? The thought filled him with both comfort and fear as his vision started to flicker and warp.


	10. Chapter 10

Recovering from his processor surgery had been unpleasant to say the least. Swindle had been exhausted for weeks. Recovering from half his spark chamber being rebuilt was far worse, but wasn’t as painful as what Prowl was telling him.

“Onslaught told Prime everything. I accepted all responsibility. As I ordered you under false pretences you, Jazz and his team will be safe.”

“But...”

“The Decepticon faction has splintered, but some are more chaotic and dangerous to the humans than under Megatron. Others have surrendered.”

“Oh.” Swindle replied.

Prowl smiled but it was bittersweet, “the war is over at least—the Decepticons themselves no longer exist.”

Swindle smiled, “that’s great but—“

Prowl pulled away, “I would have liked to see what our relationship would have become in peace. I am...sorry.”

“Prowl—“ Swindle tried to fight the exhaustion. “Please don’t...leave.”

Prowl gave him one last sad smile and left.

* * *

Swindle woke from recharge. He realised he’d been woken by a visor burning brightly in the darkness above him.

“Jazz?”

“You’ve got a choice mech. Save your own aft or save Prowl from spending his nearly his entire functioning in jail.”

“...how?”

“I joined some dots and found those loose ends. I can argue given how many Autobots you’ve extorted and manipulated before the war that you did the same to Prowl.”

“Then you know...He’ll never forgive me.”

Jazz glared, “Do you want Prowl sitting in that cell till he deactivates? Or Prowl walking free after a few vorns. Prowl having a life that’s more than the ghosts and grief he carries.”

Jazz’s visor was piercing, “Do you care about looking like a good mech or being one? “

* * *

Swindle had to lean against Jazz to get to the meeting room. Jazz unceremoniously strode into inside without so much as a word.

The autobot officers sat in a horseshoe shape around a circular table. Optimus was at the head of it. Prowl stood at the other end. Swindle was too focused on not passing out to noice any other details. 

“Jazz, what are you doing?” Optimus Prime asked. “You agreed you could not speak at this trial due to your involvement in events.”

Ratchet was less restrained, “Why the frag do you have my patent with you? He’s not supposed to be walking around for orns yet!”

Prowl’s faceplate stayed impassive but his wings shifted.

“I need to bring some new evidence to this case. Prowl was emotionally compromised and manipulated by the mech next to me.”

Swindle cleared his vocaliser, “I—“

“Shut it,” Jazz growled. “I did my standard checks and found some discrepancies. Took me a while but I found this mech had a civilian frame and designation pre war. He had his serial number changed.”

“Continue Jazz,” Optimus Prime gestured with a servo.

“You can replace serial numbers on your frame but they’re still in your deep coding. Found it when I disarmed that bomb. Did some digging and the pieces fell into place,” Jazz paused.

“Swindle’s original designation is Bargain.”

“Bargain?” Ironhide frowned, “He was that weapons dealer we never caught. Kept bribing, tricking and corrupting our best mechs. An’ sold the cons the Quintesson bomb that destroyed Praxius...” Ironhide trailed off.

The Autobot officers turned to look at Swindle. Various shades of horror, rage and shock played out on their faceplates.

Prowl‘s wings trembled. His optics were pale and glassy.

“Prowl was as easy as all the others,” Swindle smirked, “I wanted Megatron gone, I wanted freedom from the compliance coding, I wanted the gestalt bond broken. Either way I’d score all three.”

Prowl’s wings were still shaking. But his eyes were now hard and furious.

“The ‘cons told me the bomb was for military targets only. I knew how much damage the bomb could do if they used it on a city.” Swindle shrugged, “Dead civilians are bad for business.”

Optimus stood up. “Jazz, return Swindle to the medbay. Once Ratchet deems him fit Swindle shall remain in the brig.”

When Swindle took one last glance he saw Prowl’s normally stoic faceplate contorted into a messy tear streaked display of fury and sorrow.

Prowl would smile again one day. But Swindle knew he would never see that smile again except in memories.


	11. Chapter 11

The Autobot medic broke the gestalt bond a few days ago. Swindle couldn’t bring himself to care.

Vortex tried needling him out of boredom but gave up when Swindle didn’t respond. Vortex then turned his attentions on a still enraged Onslaught. Even watching the mechs he hated being reprimanded by Ironhide like naughty new builds didn’t bring Swindle much pleasure. 

By that point Swindle had been in the brig months. He had social contact from this orange shrink and Brawl because Autobots stuck to their guns on not torturing mechs by putting them in solitary confinement. He also got heavily supervised drives, decent fuel and datapads to read.

A few orns back he’d be working on an escape by bribery or blackmail plan if he’d been stuck in a cell like this. But Swindle stayed put. Because he was going to stick to his guns on being a better mech—even if Prowl would never be there to see it.

The day they were due back to Cybertron he was visited by Jazz.

Swindle was told the ‘con prisoners were being transported back to Cybertron soon. Clearly Prowl had managed to convince Optimus ‘cons needed rehabilitation not to rot in cells. Clearly regardless of his personal feelings to certain mechs.

“Oh, an’ Prowl wants to see you—don’t let the whole Arc know about it,” Jazz told him.

Shortly after Jazz left Prowl entered the brig. He walked up to Swindle’s cell and stood silently.

“Wanna know how I ended up in the box?” Swindle asked.

Prowl stayed silent.

“When I found out what the bomb had been used on Praxis I contacted Megatron. Told him he’d broken my terms of not using weapons on civilians.”

Prowl spoke coldly, “You enabled the destruction of my city but it was by accident.”

Swindle sighed, “Told Megs to go burn in the pit. When threats and sending mechs after me wouldn’t make start selling to him again...he boxed my spark. I deserved it.”

Prowl crossed his arms and stood in silence.

“I’m not trying to patch things over. I’m not expecting you to be grateful for me lying my aft off to shorten your sentence when I helped—“ Swindle cleared his vocaliser. “When I helped destroy your home.”

“So why are you telling me this?—Primus, why am I here talking to you.”

“Because you deserve the truth. I let our...relationship happen keeping this from you. If I knew what they’d do. Where this would all lead...” Swindle shook his helm.

Prowl was silent for a moment. His wings sagged in exhaustion. “My sentence has been annulled in return for me stepping down from command and never taking a position of military authority again. I am now a civilian.”

Swindle smiled tiredly. “that’s good news.”

“I should hate you Swindle.” Prowl’s wings flicked back and forth.   
“You aided a horrific act that destroyed my life and home even if unintentionally, but you sacrificed yourself to save Jazz, and allowed us to capture the Combaticons. You sacrificed your freedom to save me from a nearly a lifetime of imprisonment. You helped to end the war.”

Swindle was silent.

“I do not know how to feel about you.” Prowl’s wings fell low.

“You haven’t gotta decide right now. I’m not going anywhere for a long while.” Swindle smiled.”You’ve got a life that’s more than the war—now go live it.”

Prowl smiled softly.

Swindle closed his optics. He held onto the memory of that smile like a light in the void.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we’re done! Thanks for reading folks <3
> 
> The ending is pretty bittersweet but I might do some post war stuff where Swindle and Prowl have to work things out...

**Author's Note:**

> This first chapter is a little short but they get longer :3


End file.
